Chapter 13
Olivia
Irub my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today. Sleep didn’t come easily last night, ever since Ivy said Caleb was questioning her about where I was, and now the exhaustion is catching up with me.
The ache behind my temples grows sharper, so I loosen the crooked ponytail I’d hastily pulled my hair into this morning and start rubbing small circles, hoping it’ll ease the tension.
My desk is a mess, piled high with invoices and orders that need sorting and organizing—but the pounding in my head and the weight dragging down my eyelids are making it impossible to think straight.
I lean my forehead against the cluttered desk, trying to will away the fog, when I catch the sound of Kade’s voice, a little louder than usual.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Trent. It was ordered. It should be there.”
I lift my head, heart tightening as Kade’s voice continues.
“I don’t fucking know. They were supposed to drop it off first thing this morning. I’ll talk to Liv, see if she knows anything. I’ll call you back.”
Shit.
What wasn’t delivered today?
Panic floods me as I scramble through the paperwork scattered across my desk, hunting for answers. I check my laptop calendar and see the note: three pallets of bricks scheduled for today at the school site.
My stomach twists as I pull up the invoice, and my heart sinks when I spot the wrong delivery date glaring back at me.
Fuck.
Before I can think further, I hear footsteps approaching fast. When Kade steps into my office, I freeze, stuck like a deer caught in headlights.
“Hey, Liv—quick question,” he says, voice calm but firm. “You got the invoice for the brick pallets that were supposed to be delivered to the school site this morning?”
My eyes snap to his, and panic claws its way up my spine.
“I—I selected the wrong date,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean to—I should’ve double-checked. I thought I did, I swear—”
The words tumble out too fast, tripping over each other. My heart slams against my ribs in a sick, stuttering rhythm. My lungs tighten. The room starts to tilt. I can’t look away from him, but I’m not really seeing him, everything’s gone blurry around the edges.
He’s going to yell. He’s going to blame me. Say I’ve ruined everything. That I’m useless.
“I can fix it,” I rush out, already fumbling for the phone with shaking hands. “I’ll call the supplier—I’ll get it sorted. I can fix it.”
But I’m not hearing Kade anymore. I’m hearing Caleb.
“I told you the reservation needed to be for tonight. You don’t fucking listen.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tight, willing the voice away. I know he’s not physically here, but that doesn’t matter when he‘s in my head.
“One simple job and you still screw it up? Are you trying to embarrass me, Olivia? Is that it? You like making me look like a fool? You won’t like the consequences.”
Something cold and familiar grips my chest. Shame. Fear. That helpless, cornered feeling I thought I’d outrun.
A hand lands gently on my shoulder, and I flinch hard, lurching back like I’ve been burned. My chair scrapes sharply against the floor as I recoil.
When I open my eyes, Kade is there, frozen mid-breath, his hands raised in a wordless promise that he means no harm. His eyes are wide; face etched with concern.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”
But I can’t answer him.
My breath shudders out of me in ragged bursts. My hands are still trembling; fingers curled around the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing holding me up. I want to say something, anything, but my throat feels like it’s been sealed shut.
He doesn’t come any closer. Doesn’t push. Just stays there, watching me with a quiet kind of patience that feels too gentle and too dangerous all at once.
“I’m not mad,” Kade says, voice low and steady. “No one’s in trouble. It was a simple mistake. That’s all.”
I nod, but it’s barely more than a twitch. My brain keeps waiting for the snap—for the shift from calm to cold rage. The way Caleb’s voice always dropped right before it all went dark.
“I’ll fix it,” I whisper again, hollow and automatic.
“You don’t have to right now,” he says. “Just take a minute.”
I shake my head. I can’t. If I stop, I’ll have to feel all of it, and the panic will consume me.
“I need to fix it,” I insist, reaching for the phone again, but this time Kade gently places his hand over mine. Not to stop me. Just to steady me.
His touch is warm, grounding. It shouldn’t feel safe. I don’t know if it is safe. But for the first time in the last five minutes, I can breathe.
“I’ve got it,” he says softly. “Let me take care of it.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely able to meet his eyes.
His brow furrows, but not with frustration. With something that looks an awful lot like pity.
“You don’t need to be sorry, Liv.”
But I am.
I’m sorry I made a mistake. I’m sorry I panicked. I’m sorry I let the past crash into the present. I’m sorry he had to see it.
I’m sorry because now he knows something’s wrong.
And I don’t know what scares me more, that he might ask, or that he might not.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, hot and fast. I blink hard, willing them away, but it’s no use. One slips down my cheek, and then another.
I swipe at them quickly, ashamed that I can’t hold it together. That he’s seeing this, seeing me like this.
“I’m fine,” I say hoarsely, even though it’s a lie. “I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t sleep well, and the order, and—” I break off, sucking in a shaky breath.
Kade moves before I can stop him.
His arms come around me in one smooth, quiet motion—strong, steady, sure. I freeze for a second, caught in the unfamiliar sensation of someone holding me instead of dismissing me, someone steadying instead of scolding.
And then I melt into him, because I don’t know what else to do.
He smells like cologne and something warmer underneath. His hand comes up, cradling the back of my head as he tucks me against his chest like he’s done this before. Like he knows what it means to need the kind of silence that doesn’t ask questions.
“You’re okay,” he whispers against my hair. “I’ve got you.”
And the worst part is—I almost believe him.
My fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt. Just for a second. Just long enough to let myself feel what it’s like to not be alone.
I pull back, blinking up at him through the blur of tears, my hands instinctively brushing at my face as I try to collect myself. “Sorry,” I stammer, my voice raw.
He doesn’t let me finish. Just reaches up and gently wipes a tear from my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb, his touch unexpectedly tender.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he says quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smile.
I manage one in return. Small. Fragile. But real.
“I’m just gonna… clean myself up,” I say, already taking a step back, needing the space. Needing a mirror, a few deep breaths, and maybe a splash of cold water to remind myself I’m not back there.
He nods once, giving me that space without a word. The heat of his gaze burning into me as I rush toward the bathroom.
Once inside, I quickly close the door, lean against the sink, and meet my own reflection with red-rimmed eyes and a pale face. My mascara is smudged, my ponytail lopsided. I look like I feel—exhausted and unraveled.
I wash my face, pat it dry, and force a steady inhale before heading back out.
When I return, Kade is just hanging up the phone. He looks at me with a soft smile, “It’s all sorted. Supplier’s dropping off the bricks before noon. No harm done.”
Relief washes over me, mixed with something else, a flicker of gratitude for him, for this moment where he came to my rescue without searching for glory.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, settling back at my desk.
Kade just nods, the concern in his eyes softening, and for the first time that day, I feel a little less like I’m drowning.